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His conscience; that is to say, God.
Nevertheless, he deluded himself at first; he had a feeling
of security and of solitude; the bolt once drawn, he thought
himself impregnable; the candle extinguished, he felt him-
self invisible. Then he took possession of himself: he set his
elbows on the table, leaned his head on his hand, and began
to meditate in the dark.
‘Where do I stand? Am not I dreaming? What have I
heard? Is it really true that I have seen that Javert, and that
he spoke to me in that manner? Who can that Champma-
thieu be? So he resembles me! Is it possible? When I reflect
that yesterday I was so tranquil, and so far from suspecting
anything! What was I doing yesterday at this hour? What
is there in this incident? What will the end be? What is to
be done?’
This was the torment in which he found himself. His
brain had lost its power of retaining ideas; they passed like
waves, and he clutched his brow in both hands to arrest
them.
Nothing but anguish extricated itself from this tumult
which overwhelmed his will and his reason, and from which
he sought to draw proof and resolution.
His head was burning. He went to the window and threw
it wide open. There were no stars in the sky. He returned
and seated himself at the table.
The first hour passed in this manner.
Gradually, however, vague outlines began to take form
and to fix themselves in his meditation, and he was able to
catch a glimpse with precision of the reality,—not the whole